The Chariot
by Willow Fireheart
Summary: Owen Thurman dies, thanks to poetry. [Complete]


**The Chariot **

Spoilers- Primarily for 'Never Kill A Boy On The First Date,' some for season 2  
Disclaimer- just borrowing from Joss, all will be returned with minimal scaring. Poem is by Emily Dickinson.  
xxx

Owen Thurman was a nice guy; everybody said so. He had good grades. He was kind to animals and children. He was courteous. He loved his family. And he loved poetry. Especially poetry by Emily Dickinson.

Okay, there was that brief period were he was danger boy, but that ended after he walked into that strange bar, Willie's. Not that he was staid and boring, it was just that he found other methods of getting that adrenaline rush. He was writing his own poetry. There was even a place that had an open mike night.

That was where he was coming from.

It had gotten very dark since Owen had entered the café, but he still walked confidently through the streets of Sunnydale; his nose buried in a book. Emily Dickinson, of course.

"Because I could not stop for Death,  
He kindly stopped for me;  
The carriage held but just ourselves  
And Immortality."

His favourite. Every time he read it he could help but murmur along.

"We drove slowly, he knew no haste-"

Without warning a hand clamped over his mouth and he was dragged back into a dark alley.

"A poet," a sweet feminine voice sung in his ear. "I haven't had a poet in years. You do taste so sweet."

Owens' eyes widened and he started to struggle. It was of no use; the woman was too strong for him.

"Shh, kitten. It won't be but a moment. If you're a good boy, I'll make it worth your while."

He felt lips move seductively over the skin of his neck, then a cold, wet tongue follow their path.

Owen whimpered in fear.

His head was pulled back against a small shoulder. Cold fingers ran through his hair. "Good, kitty. You taste so sweet, so full of fear."

"Pl-please."

She laughed. "Please what? Please let you go? Please do it again? Please please you?" She paused, breathing in deeply' savoring his fear. "Please," she leaned close and whispered in his ear, "bite you?"

She barely gave him a moment to understand before she sunk her teeth into his veins. A hand clamping over his mouth cut off his strangled scream.

The book fell from Owens' hand, landing face down on the ground.

Blood dripped down his neck, soaking into his collar. Slowly Owens' eyes glazed over and he slumped into his murderer. His rasping breath became a rattle in his chest.

After a minute that had seemed like a lifetime the female vampire pulled away. With obvious relish she ran her tongue along her lips. Catching any stray blood. With a satisfied purr the vampire licked clean Owens' neck.

She brought one delicate wrist up to her mouth and using her fangs tore the skin open. She held her bloody wrist to his lips.

"Drink, my kitten, and live forever."

His tongue tentatively darted out and lapped at her wrist. The he could not stop himself. His hands came up to clutch her arm, anchoring it in place. He moaned in pleasure.

She laughed throatily, trailing her fingers down his face. "Good, kitten."

"Dru?" The harsh, male voice came from the mouth of the alley.

Drusilla looked up guiltily. "Spike."

She pulled her wrist away from Owens' mouth and licked it clean, pulling her sleeve down to cover the wound. Drusilla kissed Owen on the forehead and carefully laid him in a pile of rubbish against the back of the alley.

"Dru!" Spike was rapidly losing his temper.

Drusilla scurried out of the alley. "Spike, have you been looking for me, my sweet?"

Spike sighed in relief. "Dru, love, you shouldn't wander off. You're not strong enough yet. What if you encountered the slayer?"

Dru placed a hand on his cheek. "Spike, do you love me?"

Spike stopped. "Of course I do, pet. How can you doubt?"

Drusilla smiled and leaned against Spike. She'd tell him about her new poet later.

"Show me?"

"Everyday of my life, love."

With a backwards glance Drusilla lead Spike away. Perhaps… perhaps Spike would find her a nice, warm shop girl and she could have tea and cakes with Miss Edith.

xxxxx

The sun rose. The day progressed as everyday did in Sunnydale. Owens' parents fretted in the privacy of their home. Vampires slept, hiding from the sun. Demons moved about in the sewers. Students went to class, talked to friends and moaned about their homework.

In the alley Owens' body remained in shadow, untouched by neither man nor sun.

The sun set. And, in the darkness, a vampire rose.

Owen scanned the alley with yellow-tinged eyes. He stared in wonder as he flexed his hands. Every thing was so intense. Including the hunger.

Smelling prey Owen strode towards the street, stopping when he trod on the book of poetry he had dropped the night previously. He stooped and picked it up, staring at it contemplatingly.

Suddenly he laughed and casually tossed it aside.

Grinning wildly Owen moved into the street.

"Because I could not stop for Death,  
He kindly stopped for me…"

xxx

End.


End file.
